


Alone in Hollywood

by jaded_firefly



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Nonbinary abed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27881934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaded_firefly/pseuds/jaded_firefly
Summary: Fresh from the sea, Troy is meeting up with Abed in LA. But this city of dreams is keeping Troy from his.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Alone in Hollywood

I’m straightening out the place settings again, nervously recentering the kid’s menu that I had to finagle for them. I told the waiter I was meeting a friend from college then requested the kid’s menu, I should've reversed it then I wouldn’t have had to explain for so long why my college friend needed a kids menu. The waiter gives me a weird look every time he passes. I kinda just ignore him and fixate on the wall to my left, twisting my earring, you know try not to think about it too much. 

Abed should’ve been here ten minutes ago. 

They’re never late. What if they died on the way here? What if there was an emergency on the set they were on? What if some mafia guys took their phone? What if they had an actual date and decided I wouldn’t mind if they skipped out? What if they’ve locked in an LA sex dungeon somewhere? What if….My mind continues to race and a million miles an hour, each scenario worst than the last and a lot weirder but--

“Hi Troy--” Abed was sitting down across from me. I hadn’t seen them come in, the wall had been hoarding all my attention, so it kinda seemed like they just materialized in front of me. Maybe they did…..

“I was going to say hello when I sat down but you seemed to be really into that wall” Their satchel lays at their feet, arms bare in the LA heat, hair combed in that messy way that drove me crazy at Greendale. They look older, confidence leaking out of them onto the table, but their eyes still held all the gentleness and mystery that drew me so to them. My anxiety slips away and for the first time that afternoon, I sit comfortably in my seat. 

“Hey, Abed. Yeah, it’s a very cool wall.” 

“I see you got me the kid’s menu. Thanks. This place is usually really tight about this stuff but guess you’ve got a magic touch.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely” I clear my throat to stop me from sounding like a twelve-year-old girl. Abed doesn’t seem to notice. They’re so intently staring at the kid’s menu you could mistake it for the Die Hard script. Their nails are painted dark blue. They didn't paint them at Greendale. I shouldn’t be so flustered just by Abed being Abed, but excitement runs circles around my mind anyway. It’s so good to see them. 

“So, you come to this place a lot?” My hands are clasped around my phone in my lap to keep them from making silly gestures I’ll regret immediately. They cock their head and put down the menu. 

“It’s close to the studio lot and the rest of the crew likes to hang out here, so yes.”

“Yeah, definitely” I already said that. “How’s the set job? Are you doing a lot of film stuff…?”

“It’s a long ways from what I want to be doing but the director, she says I’m--” they tilty their chin and put their hands on either side of their head, wiggling their fingers then in their Don Draper voice says “going places, kid”

I laugh, maybe a little too hard. “Nice, your Don Draper has gotten a lot better.”

“It really seems to be a hit here.” 

They just look at me. I squirm under their gaze, I can’t bring myself to meet their eyes. They look away. 

“I’ve gotten in pretty good with the director actually--” their unique inflection threatens to pull me back to Colorado, it seems like its been years and only moments since we’ve talked--ain’t it cliche? “she says she’d like to keep me around for the duration of her studio contract, so that should set me up for the next three years here.”

“Oh yeah that’s…you’re staying in Hollywood?”

“Yeah. I like it here. The apartment is cool. It’s close. I know we talked about moving into your house when you got back but you were gone so long.” 

They have a way of dropping bombs that makes my brain want to run to North Carolina. Even two years at sea requiring quick thinking don’t make me collect myself any faster. Us moving in together was all I talked about at sea (Sorry Levar...) and what I wanted to talk about today. But I wanted to ease the questions in. My thoughts are finally catching the tail end of reality and suddenly the veiled decor turns malicious and the room is glaringly white. 

I don’t think I like LA. 

I want to say something but the waiter comes up and before I send him away Abed orders. I order too, my own words sounding like gibberish when they fall from my mouth. I can’t make any coherent sentences. I try to think what advice Levar would give, he was always understanding when I talked about Abed, but I just flounder. 

Another waiter refills Abed’s wine. They’re content just sitting. I can’t read their face. I used to be able to understand them but now I feel lost. I need to say something. I grappled with four separate thoughts, all sounding equally embarrassing and childish but stitch them together anyway and string out a sentence--“Abed, don’t you think we should talk about this? The house wouldn’t have to be far and I’m sure there’s something I can do nearby. ”

“My life is all set up here. I’m sure you understand. You never communicated so I thought you moved on.” 

Moved on? 

“I tried but you know how I am with postage stuff. It’s just so complicated and I can’t figure out where to put the stamps, especially on all that international stuff they just make it so weird.”

“Okay.” They drink. I can’t read anything off their face. 

“Abed, please, are you upset?”

“No. I think it’s good that you went. My life is here now. I like it. I’m happy.” They drink. 

“Yeah, that’s good, I want you to be happy. ”

They look away, “Okay. Want to hear about the movie I’m on?” 

“Sure Abed.” 

My phone stays on in my grasped hands, open to the screen of the various homes I had found for us. My finger slips over the power button and the screen shuts off. I listen to them talk, I watch their eyes, their hands. We eat. I’m not crying but I feel like it. I think about excusing myself to the bathroom but they would know something is wrong and I suddenly don’t have the energy to talk anymore. I let them carry away the conversation. At some point, their phone rings, the director, the one who is keeping them in LA, calls them back to set. It must be a small movie if the director is calling them. But Abed was always exceptional so maybe it wasn’t. 

They invite me to come to the set. I decline, some measly excuse fumbles out of my mouth and they accept it. Abed gets up to leave, bag slung across their chest. 

“Troy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being my friend.” 

“See you soon Abed.” They smile then Abed walks away into the jaws of the Hollywood Monster and I’m left at the table for two. I wonder what to do next.


End file.
